Navigating grief, growth, and 40-year high school reunions

I know it has been a while since I’ve written. In the first half of 2023, I have been contemplating and anticipating the significant anniversaries and, as we say in the end-of-life and grief space, deathiversaries that the year holds. 

In the Spring of 1983, I did what most high school seniors did (and perhaps still do) – an internship, fun with friends, lunches off campus, a little worrying about what life after high school would bring, prom going, and enough studying, paper writing, and test-taking to get that diploma. That’s right, 2023 marks 40 years since I graduated high school – wah!

In the Autumn of 1983, just three weeks after starting my freshman year in college, I received a call that my only sibling, David, had been in an accident and was in a coma. Three weeks later, my parents made the difficult decision to extubate him, and he died on October 20. This year also marks 40 years since my brother died. 

When David died, I thought time would stop.

I simply could not imagine the world going without him in it. For 40 years, I have lived, and the world has gone on without David. I cannot utter, write, or read that sentence without my eyes tearing and my throat tightening. His death has shaped my life in ways I could never have imagined. 

In the Winter of 2003, my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I was her primary caregiver for the five weeks she lived post-diagnosis. Call it divine providence, karma (which is not simply bad stuff happening to your rivals), destiny, the Universe’s plan, or just dumb luck, but it was a good thing because she did not have to face the 20th anniversary of my brother’s death. 

Big anniversaries are robust with reflection, emotion, and a prevailing how-did-I-get-from-then-to-now sense of wonder or, in some instances, bewilderment. Big deathiversaries are all of that, so much more, and none of it is easy.  

I am eager and anxious to hear the episode. Brad’s work is outstanding, so I have no doubt it will be powerful. For those who personally knew my late husband, Bob Lehmberg, please know that his voice will be featured from the Gathering Hope Life Review he recorded about a year and a half before he died.